Journal
by Kang Xiu
Summary: Henry Jekyll keeps a diary.


Journal

"July fourteenth, 1899"

We hurt, Edward and I.

Of course, we have been living for the last year in a small apartment in Paris. I had hoped that Edward would be quieter and calmer if we stayed away from people, but he still wants to be out. We argue often and when he is angry, I am subject to terrible headaches. I add this only because, even after three years, I am still trying to keep track of my symptoms, in the hope--perhaps vain--that I shall one day be able to reverse the effect of the formula.

Edward had, lately, been getting out more and more often. My willpower is very weak, and when he presses me, I find it easier to give in. Through his sheer anger and his hatred of me when I keep him in, he is able to put me through incredible pain. I have been willing to take the formula rather than experience that, and I am ashamed of myself for my weakness.

And Edward, when he is out, does horrible things. He has killed several men and women. I do not think I could bear to remember many of his actions enough to put them down...

I believe we have been caught because of things he does. Yes--we are captured. I had grown used to being in the back of his mind instead of his being in the back of mine, and I was not paying attention. All I am sure of is that we are now on board a ship of some sort, and that Edward was injured, because my body is covered with bruises and small cuts.

When Edward changed me back in the midst of the men who had caught us, I had become alert, but I was unable to tell exactly what was going on. Edward had been offered amnesty in England if he helped the men--but I still do not know why they wanted us. I can only assume that they desire Edward because of his strength; but what for? We were not informed.

I have been given a room, my clothing and a box of the formula, which I suppose they took from our apartment, and a small day-book, that being what I am writing in at present.

I hope to-morrow I shall receive some explanation of what is happening to us.

"July fifteenth, 1899"

It is one-fifteen in the afternoon by my pocketwatch. Edward and I have just been told, in detail, exactly why we are here and what we are to do. We have been this told by Allan Quatermain, hero of the British Empire.

It seems fantastic.

Britain was lately attacked by men speaking German. They robbed the Bank of England and took Da Vinci's plans for Venice. I, of course, had no idea of this. I spent my days locked in our apartment, experimenting with chemicals, and Edward sees no point in purchasing newspapers or asking his victims what the latest news is before he murders them. Britain attacked! If I had time or emotion enough to spare on loving my country, I am sure I should be angry.

But I have digressed. Britain was attacked by men speaking German, and Germany by men speaking English. Several other countries have experienced the same attacks. Mr. Quatermain told us that these attacks were really all organised and carried out by a man called the Fantom, and that he intends to send the entire world to war and then profit from it by selling the nations the weapons he used to attack them in the first place.

We--and several other persons--are meant to find him and stop him. That is all, really.

A world war would certainly take from me and from Edward our secluded life of nightmares. For Edward, I imagine it would not be too different--he would go on killing and perhaps finally be killed. But I want to be alone, to continue work on my antidote. I shall never have that chance, it is obvious, with buildings being destroyed all around me.

So Edward and I agreed.

Mr. Quatermain also told us that we are currently on board the Nautilus, the submarine-ship of a Captain Nemo. I am sure I read about him once, and I think also that I remember he was connected to the sinking of several ships many years ago.

As I mentioned earlier, Edward and I do not often have reason to know what is going on in the world.

The other men and woman involved in this venture are a Mr. Dorian Gray, a Mr. Rodney Skinner, an Agent Thomas Sawyer, and a Ms. Wilhelmina Harker, we were informed by Mr. Quatermain. Neither Edward nor I know any of these people for sure, although we find a few of the names familiar.

Edward thinks Ms. Harker very beautiful. That is, of course, a polite way of putting what he really said, but I do agree. However, we haven't seen her very much. I understand that she is a chemist and spends rather a lot of time in her room, and I hope that I may have a chance to talk to her and ask her about chemicals for my antidote.

Mr. Quatermain I have not had any contact with before or since he explained things to us, and the Captain has other things to concern him. Mr. Skinner may have seen me--he may be watching me now; who can tell? The man is impossibly invisible--but if he has, he's made no move to introduce himself. Mr. Gray, I think, finds me unimportant, and Agent Sawyer has not paid any attention to me, either. I am glad of this, because I am, truly, slightly frightened by everyone here. These men appear to be in perfect control of themselves and are obviously brave and strong, or they would not have been recruited. I am not.

This realisation of my own weakness, a weakness I had partly forgotten I had due to seclusion, terrifies me. Edward could protect himself, but if I were attacked, would I be able to save my own life?

"Later"

This evening, I found I would be allowed to have my supper alone in my room rather than eating with the others, and immediately accepted.

Captain Nemo visited me this afternoon and explained that I could go anywhere I liked on his Nautilus, foremostly the salon, and the deck when we were above water, and showed me where all the facilities were. The submarine-ship is not as large as I had thought, but even my room is much larger than our apartment was, and Edward thought he would like to explore it, perhaps to-morrow.

I tried to dissuade him, but he only punished me with a dreadful tightening in my chest until I felt I could not breathe, and I, pathetic as I have always been, gave in. So to-morrow Edward is unleashed upon the Nautilus... If he tried to kill one of members of the League or one of the Captain's men, would they shoot him?

I wonder if they need him too much for that.

After supper, I thought I might try to see Ms. Harker and ask her about her about chemicals, but Edward demands we go up on the deck and see the night. He has always loved it when it's dark outside.

I have only paused to write in this day-book, and then we shall go up...

"July sixteenth, 1899"

Edward's exploration of the Nautilus was not as frightening or terrible as I had anticipated. He snorted and jeered at me in his head, and said he does not always destroy things. He wanted to know what the ship was like, he said. I expect he must know by now. He has gone over every conceivable inch of it, and been in rooms I didn't realise were there. Edward is very good at detecting doors made to look like walls.

During his inspection he found, and discovered how to detach and manoeuvre, the small pod inserted into the side of the Nautilus. He says it serves the purpose of a ship's boat on a frigate or corvette.

I have no idea how he knows such things, but every time I have asked, he has cursed cheerfully and told me that as my opposite, of course he knows the things I never learnt. I never understand him when he says that. I am the good and he is the evil; we are not opposites.

Because Edward had got his way in the earlier part of the day, I tried to visit Ms. Harker in the afternoon, but she was busy... I say 'busy', perhaps, because I am too cowardly to admit what I saw. Mr. Gray was--and I can hardly write it without trembling. What a fool I am!--Mr. Gray was seducing her, and Edward was very amused by it all.

As I left, he began insisting I drink the formula and change into him and see if I couldn't get a chance to speak with Ms. Harker then. I wish she was not beautiful. Perhaps then he would not look at her and want her. For my part, perhaps I would, if that were not one of the actions or emotions Edward claims as his own. I do think her beautiful, and I admire her manner of speaking and her sensibility, but I can do no more than that. I would have told Edward that if I didn't know he was fully aware and taunting me--but then he became angry and began hurting my throat.

It is a strange thing to be strangled by a creature inside one's head...

At that moment, the Captain appeared in the hall, and reprimanded me for letting Edward take control of me so. I thought I would cower and apologise, but instead I shouted at him. I have--I have not done that before. Perhaps Edward was really the one sensing and hearing instead of me. I walked off after I shouted, and realised I was shaking all over. I thought--I dared to think that I had just been the one in control, that it had been me who was so strong and able to stand up for myself, but Edward just laughed.

When we reached my room, he again told me to let him out, and I agreed. I was too stunned to do anything else. And that was when I found one of the vials of formula missing.

I thought at first I had taken it and not realised I had-- Edward insisted this was not so. We are going to Mr. Quatermain in a moment, as Edward suspects it was Skinner.

Edward is usually right about that sort of thing.

"July eighteenth, 1899"

Edward and I are exhausted. I am only writing down what has happened over the last two days, and then we shall sleep.

Yesterday evening we reached Venice, and intended to locate the bomb that the Fantom apparently had placed under the city. He intended to set off his world war by destroying the city. We had just disembarked from the Nautilus when the bomb--rather, the bombs--all went off, and the city began to fall, like huge, grey dominoes.

I cannot possibly express how frightened I was. I know I am a coward, but I cannot tell myself so enough. Buildings were falling down around us, children and men and women probably being killed, and I stood there, paralysed because I thought I would be dead in a moment.

Mr. Quatermain and the Captain, in that time, had already come up with a plan and were sending off the 'automobile' with Mr. Gray, Agent Sawyer, Ms. Harker, and Mr. Quatermain himself to find a building that would be taken out to stop to falling of the city. The Captain would use a rocket to smash it. Skinner had by that time disappeared.

Mr. Quatermain called to us to come along, and I refused him. I told him it was because I wouldn't let Edward use me, but in truth, I was still frightened. And Edward was furious. He began pressing down on my head, harder and harder, as the 'automobile' drove away.

The pain was unbearable. I felt I was dying until I was roughly shaken by the Captain's first mate, a man named Ishmael. He said that wasn't I a doctor? and I gasped out yes. Then I ought to be helping the wounded men, he said, and I nodded and began.

He supplied things and members of the crew brought the injured men--and I really did feel as though I were a man like any other. I was a doctor. I did my part as such, bandaging and amputating and removing pieces of rock and plaster from the men's bodies.

Never since I brought out Edward had I felt I was an ordinary person doing my job.

When Mr. Quatermain and the others returned, he announced that the Fantom was M--M is the man who brought the others together. I have never seen him. He would have explained more, but at that moment Ishmael fell through the opening of the Nautilus. He had been shot.

From him, we learnt that Mr. Gray was the man who had betrayed us--not Skinner; Mr. Gray. Edward was wrong.

Ishmael died.

Gray escaped. He took that little pod that Edward found the second day and went off into the ocean with it, and the Captain, I believe, would have been white-hot to touch if 'burning with rage' were more than a figure of speech.

We set off after Gray instantly, but we had hardly travelled an hour before a man in the crew whom the Captain addressed as 'Deinde' brought a record which he had discovered making a high-pitched sound. The Captain played it, but I didn't listen. Edward was looking at me in the mirror opposite me and clutching his ears. He could hear something--and I could feel it, hurting, piercing--I caught a few words from the record--

And suddenly there were explosions everywhere. I fell; everyone fell; the whole submarine-ship tipped upside down. It was filling with water, and it was quite obvious we would die.

Then Edward began whispering. He started out softly, just saying my name, but then he became more persistent, and kept muttering that we could save the ship, that if I listened to him-- he wanted me to drink the formula and change, and believed that he could somehow drain away the water and get us righted again.

I did listen to him.

Edward never overestimates himself...

I do not know or remember much of what happened next. I drank the formula and changed, and then retreated to my usual place in his head as he swam down into the water filling the Nautilus.

When he changed back again, I was in my room, lying on the floor and exhausted, with my clothes in tatters about me. I slept half an hour and then woke, dressed, and hurried back through the ship to find the others. I checked my watch at that time; it was a quarter past one in the morning.

We are now following Gray from instructions sent by Skinner--he hid in the pod and is going alone with Gray, and M, who is also aboard.

I have spent the last three hours tending to the men on the Nautilus, along with Ms. Harker. I had no idea she was at least partially a medical student as well as a chemist. While we tended to the men, she explained to me what had been in the record the Captain played.

M created the League only so that he could collect us. That much I knew. Ms. Harker is a vampire, although the term seems crude when describing her, since she is far more an intelligent woman that anything else. Skinner is invisible, as I mentioned, and the Captain had learnt many secrets that no one knows of, including the entire manufacture of the Nautilus. M. wants us to sell as some of the weapons in his war.

This thought makes me angry, which I did not know I could be. I have been trying for so many years to find an antidote to my formula so that I can forever detach myself from Edward, and be my own again--and M has taken the formula and is giving it to men who will drink it willingly; men who will /want/ my horror and my nightmares because they will also want Edward's power.

But it is now five o'clock, and I begin to doubt my ability to write coherently. Edward is ranting in my head that he is /tired/, damn me, and I fully admit I am too.

I shall try to write more to-morrow.

"July twentieth, 1899"

Two days have passed since Edward distinguished himself by saving the Nautilus. We have made good speed in following M, and the Captain believes we will reach his hiding-place within two days.

I am writing while I eat lunch--I am eating in the dining room with everyone else, because I am no longer afraid of doing so.

No--I will confess. I am still afraid, but Edward is not, and he insists we do this. He is tired of letting me choose what we will eat without first being able to see all that is available. And, in truth, I am not as frightened as I was the first few days. I believe if I keep to myself, I shall be fine, and indeed I might dare to make some conversation, perhaps.

Later.

I mean to speak with Ms. Harker this afternoon, at last, and ask her about the chemicals, but Edward and I do not hate each other the way we used to. I am not at all sure why, as he is still the same hideous, rough, obscene monster and I the pathetic, cowardly fool; but we tolerate one another, and I think that if we had to spend eternity trapped the way we are, sharing one mind much of the time--I think we might manage it.

If I were to look up now and smile, I believe someone might smile back. That is an odd thing to realise, and it pleases me. In the event we stop M, and Edward and I can return to our apartment in Paris--but I have just realised. We won't. We have been allowed to return to England after this is done.

I have not seen England in one year and ten months.

I suppose I do measure absurd things, as Edward says, but... one year and ten months... I--I do miss it, after all. It was home. I used to have friends there, and I might be able to find them again. Perhaps.

Two days ago, Edward and I ached all over from the pressure of the water and the knocking about and the sleeplessness, but now...

We do not hurt, Edward and I.


End file.
